


Everybody Wants to Rule the World

by WolvesOnCaffeine



Category: Dream SMP (Roleplay Canon), Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: 2020 L'Manberg Election on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Alternate Universe, Evil Husbands, Evil Wilbur Soot, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, Not RPF, Romance, Self-Indulgent, schlatt isn't abusive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28686837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolvesOnCaffeine/pseuds/WolvesOnCaffeine
Summary: Many things could happen during the election proceedings to change the game. Quackity wasn't necessarily expecting one of those things to be the hot man Wilbur had brought in to support them. However, that man seemed ready to change an awful lot, personally and politically.And well... Damn if Quackity wasn't tempted to help him out a touch.Or a ton.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt
Comments: 30
Kudos: 216





	1. Sorry Sir, You're Too Attractive, Please Go Home

**Author's Note:**

> Usual Disclaimer: This fic is about the fictional characters and fictional relationships within the roleplay story of the Dream SMP, not about the actual, real-life people. Please do not apply your conceptions of the real people to the characters referenced here. I do not ship real people and even if I did, I would only ship those real life people who _consented_ to such shipping.
> 
> This is not shipping Alexis and IRL Jschlatt, just Vice President Quackity and President Schlatt

The election proceedings were still under way, this day marking one of the many important events along the months-long process.

And Quackity, quite reasonably, thought he had his life together. He thought he knew exactly what he wanted and how he was going to get it. All he wanted was to make sure that L’Manburg did not have to suffer through Wilbur Soot’s tyranny, by reminding the people of the democratic process and encouraging them to seek other options. He was going to run for president and, even if he lost, he _reminded people_ that they did not need to just do whatever Wilbur wanted. Quackity had encouraged other people to run, to speak out. Sitting in the back room, waiting to go out and announce his endorsements (he really should have gotten something better than this, it was _embarrassing_ ), he knew what he was doing. Even if it got embarrassing, he was going to see it through, because it had nothing to do with preventing Wilbur from winning, or anything other than being another face on the stage.

_Then Schlatt walked into the fucking room._

He knew Schlatt would be there. _Obviously_ Schlatt would be there: Tommy would not _shut up_ about how he got Schlatt allowed back into Dream’s lands so that he could be their endorsement. No one in the entire Dream SMP was ignorant to the fact that he would be there. Hell, there had been an entire _crowd_ following the guy when he was escorted over to their building, from what he had been told. No, he knew that. He was prepared for that.

What he was _not_ prepared for was for _Schlatt to be fucking_ **_hot_** _._

The door opened and the room fell _silent._ Sapnap (friend to Georgenotfound, the asshole who was _very much living up to his name_ ) entered with a significantly taller man -most certainly taller than Quackity himself- who was, quite frankly, _the hottest person he had ever seen in his entire life, ever._

Schlatt walked in like he _was_ money and status, dressed in a fitted suit like he was _born_ to wear one, hair pulled into a ponytail behind his head, _which had no right to be hot-_ His horns curled around his head, like a normal hybrid’s, but he somehow made it look like a fucking _status symbol._ If anyone could embody the energy of the upper class, it was that guy.

That guy, who made eye-contact with Quackity and slowly, _slowly,_ removed the cigar from his mouth and- Wait. Did he wink? He _definitely did wink. Wait, holy shit, was he flirting? Was Quackity being_ **_hit on_ ** _right now?_

Oh god. Oh god. He couldn’t even react- It was the best he could do not to start screeching right there. Was he red? He felt bright red. Who was- How- Did he even have the right to- Was it _legal to be hot like that?_

Apparently, his flustered reaction must have been something the guy was looking for, because he grinned, a sharp, almost-dangerous thing that made his knees weak (that _fuck_ he was sitting down). Tommy’s voice called in the background, something about something, but Quackity wasn’t listening at all, eyes focused on Schlatt. Who was still smiling, and walking over.

_Wait. He was walking over to Quackity’s table. Wait. Shit._

Quackity could only watch in increasing pansexual panic (more like _panic_ sexual, was he right?) as Schlatt walked _right by Wilbur and Tommy,_ to sit across from him at the round wooden table he had taken refuge in. He could say the seat was meant for George- But that was stupid, because George was very not found, and would never _be_ found, not when Quackity needed him. So he had no excuse to save himself from _utterly humiliating_ himself from the man who had set his elbows in the table and leaned forward, completely focusing his attention on Quackity, who could not force himself to look away.

Alright, new rule for Quackity: Never be in a room with a hot man ever again. Okay.

“Hey,” the man greeted, and- _Damnit,_ even his _voice_ was hot?? That was not okay. That was just not okay. That was illegal, that’s what that was. _Excuse him?!_ No, no, that couldn't be right, because Quackity could _not_ be distracted by attraction right before he had to go on-stage.

“I’m Schlatt,” the man continued, sticking out one hand for Quackity to shake. “Can I have your name, Princess?”

Okay, new Quackity realization: He _liked_ that. _That_ was new. For a lot of reasons. But not a _bad_ kind of new.

Some weird, stupid, insane, _crazy_ part of himself decided not to shake the hot man’s hand like a normal fucking person. No, he walked into this world a little weird, and his brain was insistent on him walking into this _situation_ weird. Fair enough, he supposed. So he did not shake the man’s hand.

He held it out, palm down, like a noblewoman, and grinned.

“Quackity. If I’m a princess, you should greet me like one.”

Schlatt’s eyebrows raised, surprised, but his smile did not drop. In fact, a laugh escaped his lips, some sort of satisfied chuckle that went straight to Quackity’s spine, and his smile went wider, as if he’d done something right. He hoped he _had_ done something right. His heart was running a mile a minute.

“Alright,” Schlatt said, with a tilt of his head. He took Quackity’s hand in his much larger one, warm and strong and _weirdly gentle,_ and brought his hand to his lips. Schlatt left a small, dry kiss on the back of it, and Quackity’s heart and brain completely stopped.

Huh? Wha? Buwuh?

Schlatt pulled back, just slightly, lips half an inch from his hand, and said, “It’s nice to meet you, _Princess._ ”

Oh. _Oh. Oh, okay, then. That was happening, apparently. Well then._ **_Okay._ ** _That was happening. He_ **_supposed._ **

Dying of attraction-panic wasn’t the _worst_ way to die, all things considered. It was just... Not breathing, because someone was very fucking hot. How _did_ one breathe again? He kind of forgot how to do that.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” he said, voice about three octaves too high, too frozen to remember how to take his hand back. 

His hand just... Stayed there, frozen in his complete and utter panic. A good panic, but _panic_ all the same. He had to wait for Schlatt to sit up and set his hand down, patting it twice before he pulled away. 

“So, you must be the head of the SWAG2020 campaign I’ve heard so much about,” Schlatt said, all amber and honey. He wasn’t flirting, Quackity knew logically that shouldn’t be flirting- But it sure _sounded_ like flirting-

“Yeah,” he said, breathless, eyes wide. “That would be me.” Quickly, he sat up and coughed, bringing the kissed hand closer to him. Act natural. Act natural, act natural-

“Well,” Schlatt said, drawing the word out in a way that _had_ to be scientifically engineered to steal Quackity’s breath away, “I might have to rethink my-”

“Schlatt!” Wilbur cut in, all polite cheer and gentle insistence, coming to Schlatt’s side with a false smile, hand dropping to the man’s shoulder. Quackity didn’t think anything of it, until he noticed Schlatt completely tense under the touch, not at all like how he acted holding Quackity’s hand, and discomfort brewed in his eyes.

So desperately, Quackity wanted to move Wilbur’s hand.

But that would probably be an overstep of boundaries.

“Schlatt,” Wilbur said again, almost like an owner calling a dog. Quackity had heard him use the tone on Tommy before, but that was his _little brother._ This? He didn’t know why, couldn’t place it, but it made him deeply uncomfortable.

Schlatt still hadn’t spoken. Responded. Moved. Quackity gave Schlatt a questioning look- _Should he get involved?_ But he got a very small, almost barely there at all, shake of his head. So he held his tongue. 

“Schlatt,” Wilbur said a third time, a trace of steel in the word. “We should talk about the endorsement proceedings while we still have time. We need to go on-stage in a few minutes.”

There was a pause. A terrified holding of breath. Then it broke, like a spell dropping around them.

“Sure thing, Wilbur,” Schlatt said, tense look melting into a grin that did not look as genuine as the sharp, interested one Quackity had just seen before. Schlatt stood easily, turning that fake smile to Wilbur, and did not move his hand.

Quackity had a feeling that it didn’t have anything to do with attraction panic, in Schlatt's case.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Schlatt half-grumbled, as Wilbur _finally_ let go of him and led their way over to Tommy, who looked equally amused and confused. 

Then, for a second, when he looked at Schlatt... Tommy seemed _concerned._

It was fine. It was fine. Wilbur was a dictator, but he wasn’t- He wasn’t _evil,_ right? Whatever was going on between them was probably just some... Personal disagreement. 

Right. 

Yeah.

“Wilbur,” Niki’s voice called, entering the room with almost no sound. “We are ready for you to go on-stage and share your endorsements.”

Wilbur beamed at Niki, and it wasn’t like the smile he had given Quackity and Schlatt at _all._ That smile, the one for Niki, was far more human than the plastic one had seen. 

Logically, Quackity shouldn’t feel scared stepping near Wilbur, who he had interacted with repeatedly through the campaign process. He _should_ just be focused on making himself look _stupid_ in front of that... Stupidly hot man. But no, he was very much worried about both. And, suddenly, a million other things as well. Wonderful, just _great._

God, he wished that he could go back to a minute ago, when his attraction crisis was the greatest of his worries.


	2. Endorsements Went... W e l l...??

Niki led the four of them out onto the stage and Quackity felt himself attacked by nerves. He often _was_ nervous, not that many people would be able to tell that from the facade he put up, but it was different, that time. Dozens of people sat in their chairs, staring at _him_ as he took the podium. Staring at _Wilbur_ as he took the podium. Staring at Tommy, stood behind Wilbur like he always was. 

Not staring at Schlatt, on account of Schlatt not yet being visible to the crowd.

“Hello, people of our great L’Manburg!” Wilbur greeted, speaking into his microphone with a grin, and a positive response swept through the crowd. Quackity had begun to expect such open support for the present leader, _beloved_ as he was. “Today, we are happy to announce our endorsements for this campaign. This was intended to be scheduled for the day of the election, as you all know, but with the addition of more debates and a few more rallies before election day, we decided to have our endorsements be announced now, to be kept in mind for the remaining proceedings.”

That was... The quick way of explaining what had happened. However, it was a decent enough explanation. The crowd, at least, seemed to eat it up.

“We have two awesome endorsements for you today,” Tommy grinned, practically bouncing off the stage in excitement. His giddiness made sense, given that Quackity already knew who both their endorsements were. Secrets were _not_ the kid’s strong suit. “The first is... _Vikkstar himself!_ ”

“The official endorsement video will be broadcasted later today, due to technical difficulties,” Wilbur said, _clearly_ refusing to mention that the “technical difficulties” were _actually_ the fact that their local redstone worker wandered off to get more bees and forgot he needed to be working on the screens that would broadcast the message. (Again, Tommy gossipped a lot.) “However, he did send us a quote to use in the official statement.”

Again, Tommy chimed in, grinning from ear to ear, “We’ve had our differences, but that Tommy guy is okay!” He practically cheered the sentence, throwing his arms above his head in triumph.

In the corner of the stage, hidden from the crowd, Quackity saw Schlatt standing, eyes narrowed as he watched the current rulers make their speech. For a second, their eyes met, and Schlatt flashed him a ~~blinding~~ smile, and playfully rolled his eyes, nodding at the overjoyed Tommy. Truly, the poor kid’s standards were _far_ too low. Quickly, Quackity grinned back, before pretending that he was paying attention to the proceedings.

“And now,” Wilbur continued, moving Tommy away from the podium as he spoke, “we have our actual, in-person guest! Our key endorsement, _JSchlatt!_ Please, Schlatt, please, come up to the podium.”

The crowd burst out into a range of murmurs, many excited, some confused, a couple angry (Schlatt, of course, wasn’t popular with everyone), as the man himself walked across the stage. He did not tense when he walked by Wilbur, Quackity noticed, but in a way that he was _pointedly_ not getting tense. Or, perhaps, he was reading too much into it. Because he read too much into everything, and needed to get his nose out of everyone’s business. Which was probably the _real_ explanation for why Schlatt wasn’t tense as Wilbur took a step back and let Schlatt have the podium. They had probably had an argument, there was nothing to suggest- There was _not a lot_ to suggest Wilbur had the _capacity_ to make someone like _Schlatt_ uncomfortable.

“Hello, L’Manburg,” Schlatt called out, his voice a touch higher than in the other room, Quackity noticed, because of course he did. The words echoed over the crowd, seeming to draw them in, all focus pulled to him like he was an attention _magnet._

Maybe he was.

“Most of you know me, probably,” Schlatt continued, in a conceited tone that wasn’t quite like how he talked off-stage, but, unfortunately... Was _still hot._ “The name’s Schlatt, I’m from one of the western servers, it doesn’t matter where. Had a few business start-ups, got enough of a following to make a _name_ for myself. Met Wilbur a few times. Nice guy, all things considered. He brought me here to be his endorsement for his campaign. Say I was cool with him being president again, but actually _elected_ this time.”

There was a silence, almost electric, Quackity could feel it in his chest, the pause before the loudest part of the song, the calm before the storm.

“But I’m not going to do that.”

Tommy’s betrayed “ _What?!”_ could be heard all across the country of L’Manburg, and Wilbur’s surprised squawk was not hidden by the crowd’s response either. Quackity was, in all honesty, confused. Very attracted, because Schlatt conducted the crowd like a conductor of an orchestra, but mostly confused. Why was he there, then, to just tell Wilbur to fuck off?

“L’Manburg has been run by a dictator pretending to be a president, who is pulling all the strings he can get to stay in power. Democracy- _Wilbur Soot’s_ democracy is nothing but a lie crafted to meet his own ends. Pretty boy over here had the right idea, to give him someone to run against. I saw his speech and-”

“Um, not pretty boy, actually,” Quackity said, half under his breath. He didn’t even think Schlatt would hear him.

But, clearly, he did. Because the second the words fell out of his mouth, completely on instinct, Schlatt turned towards him and put a hand over his microphone.

“Pretty boy doesn’t work for you?” he asked, as if that was the most important part of this situation. Wilbur, behind Schlatt, looked about ready to commit _murder._

So, out of spite, Quackity answered the question. “Yeah, sorry, I don’t feel comfortable being called pretty,” he explained. “Or referred to _explicitly_ as a girl. Some feminine titles, like princess, are okay, though.” He paused, winked, and added, “Because it’s you.”

Schlatt nodded, the grin from the back room back again, and turned back to the crowd. Who seemed to be mostly unsure of whatever was happening. 

“Sorry about that, nickname clarification. Watching the _princess’_ speeches about the unfairness of Wilbur’s so-called democracy made me get inspired to follow suit, forge my own path towards presidency. The name’s Schlatt, and I am running partnerless in the L’Manburg elections. Vote Schlatt2020 and, most importantly, _fuck Wilbur Soot.”_

Quackity burst into applause before he could even think. “Hell yeah! Wooo! You tell ‘em, Schlatt!”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Wilbur cut in, finally able to step up to the podium. 

He could move over because, Quackity saw with a quick look, Sapnap had _let go of Wilbur’s arm._ He had physically been holding him back. Which was odd, but useful, because that was one _hell_ of a speech, from Quackity’s point of view.

“That’s enough,” Wilbur said, firmly, but Schlatt refused to remove himself from the podium. His grip tightened on the wood and Quackity found himself watching with fascination and horror, waiting with baited breath for the next move.

“Actually, I also need to state my _endorsements,”_ Schlatt said, with his too-wide ~~too attractive~~ grin. “Schlatt2020 is backed by the one, the only, the green man himself! Suck it, Soot!”

Suddenly, there was someone else on the stage. _Dream himself,_ in his all-green clothes and unnaturally-pale skin, mask as pale as bone ( _was_ it bone?), and _netherite fucking armor._ Panic rushed through Quackity’s body. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Dream was there. How was Dream there. Was this allowed?!

“I do endorse Schlatt2020,” the green _literal god on the fucking stage holy shit how was this Quackity’s life why were things like this did_ **_no one on this server have any fucking chill,_ ** confirmed, and he could _hear_ the grin, didn’t even need to see it. The man’s hand moved, and his netherite axe appeared in his grip. _Nightmare._

“In _fact,”_ Dream, continued, as Tommy backed away, accompanied by Wilbur and Niki, “I endorse them enough to... distract the competition, as it were. Sapnap, if you could help me out.”

A hand appeared on Quackity’s arm, shaking him from his frozen state as he was _quite literally_ pulled from the stage. Tommy and Wilbur’s screams of panic, accompanied by them _running far away,_ could be heard as strong hands tugged him away into safety. Neither Dream nor Sapnap even seemed to _consider_ attacking him, letting him leave the way he was being pulled.

Which, well, made sense, given that it was _Schlatt_ pulling him away.

“I should probably apologize,” Schlatt said, distinctly _not_ apologizing. He tugged Quackity into a small alley, and then made their way onto a main road, hand never once leaving his arm. “Didn’t exactly mean to get you caught up in all of this, Princess. Would have sent you the plan, if I’d met you sooner.”

“Did- Did Wilbur _know_ that was going to happen?” Quackity asked, breathless, as they finally stopped moving. He leaned against the wall of a building and forced himself to breathe. In, out. In, out. In, out. Okay.

Okay, the hot man was a little insane. Not a _bad_ insane. But, coincidentally, a _helpful_ insane. Because, without him, Quackity would have to admit that _all six_ of the people he tried to get endorsements from _completely turned him down._

“Did Wilbur know I was going to publicly tell him to fuck off then run against him?” Schlatt asked, a deep laugh rising from his lungs. “Absolutely not. He thought I was going to pull _something._ I’ve always been a stunt-puller, it’s in my nature. But no, no one other than Dream and his boyfriend knew that I was doing that. It was how they even let me into the Dream SMP in the first place.”

That was... That was really fucking clever. Clever was attractive. He needed to be less attracted to the hot man with intelligence and strength and warm hands and height and- _He was wild, Quackity. He was crazy. Quackity, you shouldn’t fuck crazy._

But he _wanted_ to.

But- But that wasn’t the point. Snap _out_ of it, Q!

“So... So what happens now?” he finally asked, breath returned.

Schlatt seemed to take that as his cue to push off from the wall he was against, and fix his suit. It was _such_ a nice suit. “For you? Probably find your missing running mate. Word of advice: If he isn’t going to run _with_ you, make him quit. If you win, you’ll end up having to share the power and spotlight with a man who did shit for you. Cut him off while you can, if you want my advice.”

“As for _me,_ ” he continued, “ _I’m_ going to find a nice restaurant, if you people even _have_ one here, and treat myself with dinner. A treat for all the chaos I caused today. Then, I’m going to stop by my hotel room, for the night. Room 303. You know where to find me.”

“I- Um- Yeah,” Quackity stammered, brain completely confused. Was he being propositioned?? “Probably not- Today not, probably, actually, but- Later, if the offer’s still open, I’d-” he stammered. 

Stress and confusion did _wonders_ for his linguistic abilities.

Whatever Schlatt’s response was got lost in the swirl of thoughts that swallowed his mind. When he returned to the present again, the alley was completely absent of any too-tall, too-handsome hybrid men in fitted suits. And Quackity was alone. In an _alley._

Where the fuck _was_ he, actually?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was chaos, but _fun to write_ chaos-


	3. Coffee and a Date (At Separate Locations)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's this XD It was a joy to write, and completely self-indulgent  
> I will like to clarify that, although there are sexual references and minor sexual themes, there will be no actual smut parts in this fic! Just wanted to clarify that because Schlatt and Quackity are... XD

It was not often that one could say someone truly,  _ truly _ lived up to their name. With such creative and wild names being all the rage ( _ especially _ the  _ chosen _ ones), it was natural for some names to be just for fun or for a specific “vibe”, rather than completely fitting. For example, he had never  _ quacked _ in his entire fucking life, and wasn’t about to start. 

George, on the other hand? George lived and  _ died _ by his name.

Which Quackity knew because the man  _ claimed _ he was staying in L’Manburg for the elections. However, all the evidence in the world proved that to be  _ decidedly not true. _ There was no house in the country in the man’s name, and no one he knew had any knowledge of him having a house within the walls. None of the three hotels in the area (including the one he now knew held Schlatt) held him, either, after asking in the right places. Hell, no one had even  _ seen _ him. And, to make matters worse, he refused to respond to a single one of Quackity’s messages.

Listen. Once they talked, he was more than happy to let George go back to not being found! But Schlatt had a point! They couldn’t just keep going like this, with Quackity carrying the man’s dead weight.

So it had been a week, and that entire week had been spent searching for an elusive motherfucker.

That frustrating,  _ excruciating _ week could have been spent at his place, preparing for the new rallies and “Q&As,” as people called them. He could have been at the beach, swimming away his worries. He could have, in that time, taken a brief trip home to see his  _ mama _ and been back, with no trouble at all. 

He could have been on the third floor of the  _ Viridian Hotel, _ in room 303, talking about the world with a hot man that had more courage than he ever would have. Or, even... More than talking. If they wanted to. 

But no. He was looking for  _ Georgenotfound. _

Finally, he had given up, after an entire week of fruitless searching, and decided to practice self-care and treat himself to breakfast.

Unsurprisingly, given his little week-long quest, he hadn’t seen Schlatt at all since the endorsements. Which was fine, he reasoned, as he wandered into the little breakfast place by the apartment he was renting for the time being. It was fine, because they were both adults, with so much to do. So much to look after and take care of. And Schlatt had just recently announced his campaign for president! So he must be busy finalizing those details. He was probably working on those things right now-

Or. Or he could be sitting in the back left corner of the little shop, at a booth, leaning against the large window as he ate a bagel sandwich. Not a glamorous breakfast, not one that would fit the upper-class aura he gave. But a functional one. As he ate, Schlatt seemed to be just staring out of the window into the foggy morning, eyes unfocused as if the road outside was nothing but a memory. 

Schlatt was there, in the building, and so beautiful that Quackity could almost cry.

What was  _ Quackity _ doing, in comparison? Standing in the doorway of a coffee shop, dressed in work exercise clothes, a beanie, one that never saw the cameras or any public appearance, pulled snugly onto his head, hiding hair he  _ wished _ he could claim was neatly combed, like Schlatt’s. It was as if the world had stopped, for a moment, leaving them in status, two raindrops in a movie, yet to fall.

Like a sailor to a siren’s song, he felt the urge to walk over to the man, insert himself into his day like Schlatt had done his- But stopped before he could.

Even though Schlatt was  _ there _ did not mean that he wanted to see  _ Quackity, _ he reminded himself, even as his heart sped up and he found himself unsure what to do with himself. Determined not to make a total ass of himself, he forces his feet to carry him into the line. But even as he followed the other hungry caffeine-addicts, his eyes were not on the menu at all. Even his rational brain could not stop him from looking at the back corner, in a way that was not as subtle as he would have hoped.

Schlatt looked like he should be a model. No. Schlatt looked like he belonged in a  _ painting, _ with the way that he lounged in his booth, arm propped up on his one knee that rose above the table, tie just slightly undone as he pulled on it, hair perfectly framing his face in glossy brown curls. The universe was not strong enough to hold him, Quackity mused, shocking himself with the flight of fancy. But it wasn’t, he reasoned. Schlatt posed effortlessly, looking for all the world as if he wasn’t truly real at all, or in another universe that Quackity and the rest of the world just had the opportunity to look into. 

Even as he sat there, as Quackity shuffled in line, Schlatt looked like an enigma. His expression was one that Quackity was too familiar with, that of a middle or lower class man, just working every day and finding himself nowhere no matter how hard he tried, just barely putting food on the table as he felt so distanced from his own life and, especially, his children. That melancholy type of zoning out, combined with the easy bagel sandwich, reminded him a lot of the fathers from his dead-end town in his dead-end homeland. But his  _ suit, _ his hair, the way he lounged as if he owned the place... Schlatt looked like a rich man surrounded by yes-men and money. He looked made for success. He looked like just another face in the crowd.

A paradox.

Maybe he should take up drawing again he mused, just so he could sketch out the contradicted features that made up his incredibly recent yet potent crush. The crush who was still sitting in the corner, the last bite of the sandwich gone, eaten as Schlatt lost himself to his musings. The man who remained completely oblivious to Quackity’s presence, the entire time.

But then he  _ wasn’t _ oblivious anymore.

Schlatt looked up from the window as if startled, observant gaze darting around the cafe, skimming over customers and chairs, until they found their goal. Had found  _ him. _ Schlatt’s eyes widened in recognition, and his expression softened somewhat, into a fond and amused smile that made Quackity want to scream. It was hot. It was too hot.

Why was it hot??

That was it. That settled it. That, right there, sealed it into stone. Quackity was, officially,  _ far _ too awkward to live unsupervised.  _ Especially _ around hot people.

_ Why was he  _ **_like this?_ **

Schlatt smiled, almost a smirk, and his communication screen popped up in his mind with a  _ ping. _

_ <Schlatt whispered to Quackity.> _

_ Schlatt: Do you want to take a picture, Sweetheart? It would last longer. _

Oh. Oh shit. Oh no. Oh fuck. Swiftly, he covered his mouth, preventing the surprised noise, or any mindless babble, from spilling out. Faintly, he thought he could hear a low chuckle.

A practical, sane person, would walk over, instead of shuffling along in line, face warm as he read and reread the message. But he never claimed to be  _ sane, _ and wouldn’t dare start.

_ <Schlatt whispered to Quackity.> _

_ Schlatt: Do you want to take a picture, Sweetheart? It would last longer. _

_ Quackity: sweetheart’s new _

_ Quackity: not a bad new _

_ Quackity: ANYWAY. i didn’t mean to stare _

_ Schlatt: Yes you did _

_ Quackity: sorry about that _

_ Quackity: wait what _

_ Schlatt: I said what I said.  _

_ Schlatt: You came in here and stared at me, watching me as you walked through the line, prompting multiple people to message me, tell you about your eyes on me as you start approaching the counter. _

_ Schlatt: You’re next in line, by the way _

_ Schlatt: Are you really going to tell me that you were staring at me like a lovesick teenager without knowing what you were doing? You are far smarter than that, Quackity. Aren’t you? _

_ Schlatt: You knew *exactly* what you were doing, staring at me like I was the only one in the room. Fucking stupid in the best way, should have seen your face, fixated on me like you forgot anyone else existed _

_ Schlatt: The barista noticed, sent me a message themself, asked me if I wanted you to leave. Did you know that? I bet you did. Or you guessed it. _

_ Schlatt: I have a deal for you. It has three options, princess, and you can choose whichever you like. Would you like to hear them? _

Oh,  _ would he like to hear them?? _ Schlatt came into his dms like  _ that, _ then thought there was any option Quackity  _ wouldn’t _ want to hear what he said? He didn’t know whether to be offended or pleased that he cared enough about his consent to do that.

_ Schlatt: I need words, princess. Shuffling in line like that doesn’t help me. _

_ Schlatt: I’d be quick, before it’s your turn to order _

_ Quackity: yea _

_ Quackity: h _

_ Quackity: yeah hit me _

_ Quackity: what _

_ Quackity: what’s the deal, schlatt _

He was fine. He was fine and this wasn’t hot and he wasn’t dying, actually. All of that was true, especially the bit where he wasn’t dying. 

_ Schlatt: You’re smart, you’re driven, you’re interested in me, and I want more than to just rot on some small server without burning myself into everyone’s minds and staying there for eternity. I want the power, the fame _

_ Schlatt: I want to be remembered, and I think you do too _

_ Schlatt: Your first option is that you step out of line without ordering, and I take you to my room. Then, we’ll talk. Genuinely talk, about a lot of things, including a plan I have that could be _

_ Schlatt: Mutually beneficial _

_ Schlatt: And if any more “talking” happens after that, then that’s how the cards fall _

No one in the world could claim that Quackity wasn’t weak to flattery, and his already  _ glaring _ weakness for all things Schlatt combined to make a man who was just... Not prepared to say no to that offer. Even if he even  _ considered _ saying no, it would be a herculean effort, because, apparently, this man had a way of making him  _ want _ that no one else had yet.

In short, he was out of line and walking to Schlatt’s table, where he sat with his amused grin and raised eyebrows as he almost tried not to laugh, before the man could even say option number two. Which made him seem weak, desperate, and dumb. But then again, who could blame him? Not anyone who had  _ seen _ this man, that was for sure.

“So,” he said, finally forcing himself to speak, “is breakfast going to be included in this whole “talking” deal?”

Schlatt’s grin turned sharper, wider, in a pleased and almost possessive kind of way. “Well, I did pull you out of line, so  _ it would only be fair.” _

Alright, new Quackity rule: Not allowed to have thoughts when Schlatt was speaking ever again. Sounds great, actually. 


End file.
